


The Curse of the Were-Rabbit

by Keyblader41996



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyblader41996/pseuds/Keyblader41996
Summary: Balthier stared down the barrel of his gun at Fran. But she wasn't Fran anymore. Her eyes were no longer the soft auburn. They'd turned blood red; her snout and fangs dripped with the others' blood; her patches of fur were stained from her wound. The room was a mess from her rage, and Balthier was the last one standing.He pulled the safety and her head snapped up, her teeth ripping from Basch's stomach. Balthier winced as she stared at him, and he steadied his trembling hand, willing himself to see the beast in the features and not Fran."My dear," he said. She turned to face him fully, a snarl escaping her lips. "You'll just have to forgive me for this."She charged, and he pulled the trigger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a DeviantArt Halloween challenge from when I was still in high school. Decided to fix it up as best I could and post it! Enjoy!

 

The gentle shudder of the wheel in his hands told Balthier he landed the Strahl well on the Ozmone Plains. Everybody else was already asleep; another long trip back from the Pharos tired everyone out, but Balthier stayed awake to pilot the ever-turbulent Jagd. He cut the engines, powering down the glossair rings one by one until the hums died down. Stretching in the thick silence, he rolled all the cramps out of his back and shoulders and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Thank the gods, he could finally rest. He left the cockpit of the Strahl and went back to his quarters, still feeling the residual vibrations of the airship in his hands and feet. 

He tip-toed past Vaan and Penelo who were sharing the cot in the narrow hallway. Except for Vaan's incessant snoring, neither stirred as he passed. Not that he would wake anyone anyhow. He'd been thieving and pirating for six years, slipping past guards and servants and gentries and sentries alike. He was a trained and practiced professional. On top of the fact that Vaan could sleep through a dinosaur stepping on the Strahl.

He crept by the Captain and Her Majesty's chambers, a section of the Strahl they marked off for themselves, and neither stirred as he walked past.

Fran was the ultimate challenge. If he could get past Fran, he could get past anyone. He tip-toed past the bed they shared in the sole bedroom over to his side, and she appeared to still be asleep. He sloooowly lifted the covers. No reaction. He slid in, and her deep, even breathing never changed. He thought he was in the clear, just about throwing a silent victory party.

"You tip-toe like a Behemoth," she whispered in her smooth, molten caramel voice.

He sighed. "Damn, I thought I got past you for once."

"Yiazmat could be more quiet than you," she joked.

"My dear, _I_ can't help it if _your_ hearing is amplified by the thousands by your large, inconvenient bunny ears."

She replied by rolling over and flicking him in the face with one of her large, inconvenient bunny ears. He chuckled and she put her back to him once more. He sat in silence, and her breaths became so even he thought her asleep again.

"We'll need more mahdu in the morn," he whispered to the open air.

"We'll need more _money_ ," came her reply out of nowhere. He jumped, and put his hand over his chest.

"Don't you remember?" she rolled right past his reaction, "Vaan dropped all of our spoils over the side of that bridge in the Pharos."

Oh, he remembered. Vaan claimed that an undead smacked it off of him in battle, but the entire party, even Penelo, was convinced that he was clumsy as he spat over the side to check for a bottom.

"I suppose we'll have some money making to do tomorrow, then?" he asked. "Now will you be _silent_ , Fran? Some of us are making an attempt at a good night's rest!"

He arrogantly cocked an eyebrow when she turned to glare at him, but she knew he was kidding. She rolled her auburn eyes.

"Good _night_ , Balthier."

* * *

 

_The next day . . ._

"Sooo, what are we doing today?" Penelo asked. She looked to Basch then Balthier, the two decision makers of the group.

"Well, thanks to the greasy Humbaba fat on Vaan's fingers, we're going hunting. We need to take out a few marks, earn a bit of money," Balthier said without turning from the bills for marks in his hands.

Basch leaned over his chair to peer at them. "What all are we looking at?"

"Wyrm, wyrm, wyrm, wolf, mutant wolf, wyrm, wyrm, wyrm, wyrm . . . " He handed them off to Basch as he listed them. "Ah! Here's an interesting one! A _ghost,_ haunting the Henne Mines? Well, that's original. And look at that tiny reward! Don't make me laugh. If I'm wasting time, effort, magick, and supplies to go into Henne, the pay-off had best be worth it."

"What will give us the biggest reward?" Ashe asked.

Basch ruffled through the bills. "Here. This one. 100,000 Gil for the mutant wolf. Called a Midnight Wolf," he said, passing the bill to her.

"Hm. Almost as original," Balthier muttered.

Ashe frowned over the bill. "I've never heard of such a creature," she commented. "Have any of you?"

"Nope," Penelo said, shaking her head. "But whatever it is, it must be tough for such a big reward."

Fran stepped into the room then. "What manner of creature?"

Ashe held the bill out to her. "A 'Midnight Wolf'. Have you ever heard of one?"

Fran studied the thin sheet of paper for a while, then shook her head slowly. "No," she admitted softly, handing the bill back. "I have not."

"We need the money," Vaan piped up.

"Yes, but we very well can't go traipsing into a battle utterly unprepared, now, can we, Butterfingers?" Balthier snapped.

While Vaan failed to come up with a retort, and Penelo stifled her giggles with a hand, Balthier strolled to a wall of the cockpit where he hung maps of Ivalice and the Strahl's blueprints. He lifted a corner of the map and scanned a row of books on a built-in bookshelf, finally settling on a six inch, leather bound monster of a book in fine Archadian script. The word 'BESTIARY' took up a majority of the cover, with a tiny 'of Ivalice' and 'By Cidolfus Demen Bunansa' smashed into the rest.

"Good thing I stole this from my father before I left," he muttered. He slammed it on the pilot's seat and knelt on the floor, flipping through. "Hmmm, wolf, wolf, wolf. Here. Blue wolf, brown wolf, no, fiery wolf, livid wolf, 'm' . . .mmmolten wolf. No Midnight Wolf here."

"Maybe it's a hybrid?" Vaan ventured to offer.

"Excellent reasoning, Vaan," Ashe countered sarcastically.

Fran shook out her hair. "There is a legend among the Viera of a hume that is cursed to transform into a wolf. On the full moon of each month, and at midnight, it sheds its human skin and ravages villages, murdering men and women and stealing the children to eat for later. It is a tale used to scare the young Viera from leaving, or trusting humes. None know exactly where it resides. Some believe Mosphoran, others believe Lhusu, one legend claims it on the Tchita Uplands. The most prominent, however, speaks of the Cerobi Steppe."

"That would make sense," Basch said. "The Cerobi Steppe is next to Balfonheim. That's where the bill was posted, was it not?"

Vaan nodded. "Yeah, I picked it up there."

"And the description matches," Ashe agreed. "It says here, 'Large, almost bear sized wolf killing Balfonheim hunters on the Cerobi Steppe. Usually seen during full moon!'"

"Sounds like our wolf," Balthier said. "Anything else that legend tells us about our wolf, Fran?"

"Apart from its immense size it is difficult to kill. It can only be seen on its full moon, and you must kill the wolf, not the hume. Otherwise, it speaks, looks, acts like a regular hume. It can only be killed with silver weapons."

"Well that doesn't help," Vaan remarked.

"No," Fran agreed. "The bite is infectious. If you are bitten by the hume, at the next full moon you, too, will turn into a wolf. If you are bitten by the wolf, it is a manner of hours."

"So we bring lots of remedies?" asked Penelo.

"Remedies will not cure the bite. A deathly blow to the creature will kill it, then you must revive the hume. But it is tricky. To land a fatal blow, you must, obviously, get close to the creature. And you are on a time limit to revive the hume."

"I don't think this isn't something the six of us cannot handle. We've a Viera with quick feet and an even quicker bow, a Captain, a dashing good shot of a pirate, a Princess, and a competent mage," he said, gesturing to Penelo.

"What about me?"

"I'm not even going to grace that with a reply. I'm still annoyed with you," Balthier said pettily to Vaan.

"The next full moon is a day from now. The 31st of October. We'd best prepare," Fran said, glancing at each of them.

Balthier smiled. "With our a- _bun_ -dance of Gil?" he asked, smirking wildly at Vaan.

* * *

 

_Later that day . . ._

"F-forty Gil! I'll go no higher!" the merchant squeaked.

Balthier raised an eyebrow at the small, pudgy man, and Fran never broke her angry gaze. They already all but intimidated the man out of his stall; few could withstand her over powering, intense gaze when she tried to pawn and was unhappy with the price.

Which was right then.

"F-forty five?"

Balthier hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants and switched his weight to his other foot. Fran still glared at him.

"I-it's just a simple iron shield! How much do you want?!"

" . . . "

"Fifty five?"

She handed the shield over and the merchant sighed in immediate relief. They all seemed to forget that they could refuse and send them away any time they wanted in Fran's presence. He slid the money across the small counter and retreated to the back corner of his stall.

"That was the last of what we could pawn," Fran said, counting the coins as they walked to the items stall.

"What's our total, Fran?"

"500."

"Oooh, Fran, I daresay you've outdone yourself this time. what would we do without you?"

"Die in poverty?"

"Ouch. I was kidding, my dear. It was rhetorical."

"I wasn't."

"I am insulted, Fran! I am perfectly self-sufficient! Now the Princess, on the other hand . . . "

"What?" Ashe asked. He forgot they were meeting by the items stall.

"Nothing, Your Majesty."

They bought their items, mostly remedies and high potions, as well as the silver weapons they needed.

"We still have about fifty Gil left," Vaan said.

"Wha-? _Who_ gave Vaan the money?!" Balthier said, ripping the Gil purse from Vaan's hands.

"You know, you can stop messing with me now! It was an accident! I apologized! I said I was sorry, okay? This is silly! Why did we not keep the money we just pawned, and earn it back some other way?"

"Do you know of another way that'll return us more than 500 Gil? Please tell. We're dying to know! Besides, 500 versus 100,000. I know it may be hard for you, son, but do the math."

"So you're willing to spend ALL our guaranteed Gil on a mark we may not even _kill_ , and may not get a reward for?!" Vaan yelled incredulously.

"I'm a skypirate. I never said I wasn't one to gamble. Let's head back to the Strahl."

* * *

 

_The next day . . ._

They flew into Balfonheim that morning, and sought out the owner of the bill: a large, fat, unkempt man somewhere in his late 40's. When they approached him about the bill, he bought them a meal to talk over.

"I got to say, you lot's one of the oddest group of 'unters I've ever seen! What've we got 'ere? Two kids, pro'bly not much 'elp-"

"Hey!" Vaan interjected.

"A girlie what looks like she came from a palace, a soldier - now 'E looks like a 'unt'a! An Archadian gent, by your proper accent, and..." He looked Fran up and down. "A Viera?"

Balthier immediately went to Fran's defense. "What of her?"

"Nothin', nothin', jus, you don't think she'll slow ya down? Get in the way?"

"Do not underestimate her," he warned. "She'll have you thrown over this table in less than three seconds."

"I don't doubt it. Jus' don't underestimate this wolf, neither. Got a nose for prey like, well, an animal. A crazed animal. I must tell ye, over twenty people wha' sought me out 'bou this wolf ain't ne'er come back."

"That so?" Balthier quipped, suddenly only half interested after his comment about Fran being prey. Why was he so interested in Fran?

"Yep. I assume they got eaten. That wolf's wha' got to 'em. You lot sure you want to try to bag this?"

"Why else would we be approaching you?" Ashe said.

The man glared at her. "What? You lot think this is some game, eh? You think this'll be like any old creature? Walk in the park? Feeling lil' adventurous, want some 'easy' money? Well this ain't wha' you think it is! It'll kill ya!"

"Thanks for the warning," Balthier said, downing his glass of ale. "But we came here for the prize, and we aren't leaving until that wolf's pelt in in your hands, and that reward's in ours." He really didn't have time for this man's idle warnings. They were there on a job. Whether he agreed or not Balthier didn't care. He just wanted the cash.

"I can't talk you lot out of it? Do you even know what you're up against?"

"A wolf, and a damn big one. We've loaded up on silver weapons, and items-"

"You really don't know, do ya? It's a Midnight. Wolf. This thing's primal instincts-"

"Are nothing we cannot handle. We thank you for the meal and the ale, but we'd best prepare."

Something about this guy rubbed Balthier the wrong way. He got up, Fran immediately at his heels. She muttered a quick 'thank you', as did the others.

He called after them, "I tried to warn ya! You lot's gonna get what's comin' to ya, and it'll be HIS fault! That wolf'll be on ya within minutes! It'll sniff out your bunny. She'll be the first, then ALL ya will follow!"

Balthier bit back a nasty retort about Fran being called a bunny, and they went back to the Strahl until midnight.

So much time to kill.

* * *

 

_Later that night . . ._

10:00 pm could not have come sooner. Balthier tried to sleep before they were to set out, but his mind kept wandering back to the man's protests.

And his warning about Fran being the wolf's target.

Was it possible that they were in over their heads? Could it be that they were not as prepared as he thought? If anything happened to Fran for this, because of him, he'd never forgive himself. He never got nervous, and yet before this battle he felt butterflies in his stomach, a sensation he hadn't experienced since the night he ran away from his father.

And when he had butterflies, that was bad.

At 10:30 they ventured out into the Cerobi Steppe.

They set up camp a little ways from the trail back to Balfonheim so they could see the beast if it headed straight into the town.

At 11:00, the howls started.

Fran's ears swiveled, and she cocked her head. Balthier immediately quieted the others, and they each listened in turn with Fran. Faintly, they heard it.

" _. . . woooOOOOOOooo . . ._ "

"Southeast?" asked Basch. Fran nodded.

"About a half mile. And it has friends."

"Friends?" Vaan and Penelo shared a wary glance. "What kind of friends?"

"Regular wolves. Six or eight by the sound of them."

Balthier swallowed hard and loaded the silver bullets into the chamber of his gun.

At 11:30, they were close enough to hear the growls as they prowled.

Penelo paled. "Are they here?"

They all tried to peer into the darkness of their small visibility range, but the dark of the night was too deep. Directly behind them, a grumble sounded into the circle.

Penelo gripped her crossbow with both hands like it was her lifeline.

Balthier supposed it was. He pulled the safety of his gun.

At 11:58 it was dead silent.

"Where'd they go?" Vaan whispered. Balthier flinched. Even his hushed whispers were like a gunshot in the stillness. Fran spun slowly, sensitive ears and gentle nose up to the air. But she frowned at the lack of noise.

"Come. We move, to open ground."

"B-but won't that . . . we'll be . . . shouldn't we . . . ?" Penelo stammered. Balthier would'be normally had some embarrassing retort, but he was sure he would've sounded the same if he let his tongue loose. He was glad they couldn't see his trembling hands in the dark. He moved all the same, and they went to the dead center of the place.

12:00. Midnight.

Softly, at first. A gentle _pat-PAT! pat-PAT! pat-PAT! pat-PATpat-PATpat-PATPAT-PATPAT-PATPAT-PAT-_

A flash of brown shot directly past Balthier and tackled Basch to Balthier's right. He BARELY braced his forearm into the regular wolf's throat, barring its snapping jaws from his face as it twisted and writhed on top of him.

Penelo screamed and suddenly dropped from view as a wolf clamped down on her ankles and started to slowly drag her away from the group.

Ashe ran to help the Captain, so Balthier ran towards Penelo where she disappeared into the dark. He kicked the wolf once, and when it turned towards him he shot it directly in the face. It gave one violent twitch before lying still, and Balthier helped Penelo up.

"You alright?"

"Y-yeah. Come on!"

When the others came back into view, another wolf had helped gang up on Basch. Ashe hacked away until one turned towards her and followed her as she backed off. Two more dove from the shadows and clawed at Vaan's dagger, ripping the silver weapon from his hands and putting inch-deep gashes down his arms. Three immediately broke through the shadows and drew to Fran and circled her, wild eyes rolling and teeth snapping. A courageous one rushed at her, but got a swift stilettoed kick to the face. It crumpled, and the other two charged her.

Balthier went to Fran's aid, but just as he raised his gun a solid wall of fur tackled him from behind. They rolled to a stop, the wolf barking and growling and snarling in his face. It opened its jaws to clamp down, but a larger, more sinister, deeper growl ripped through the air, and the wolf on top of Balthier hesitated.

The wolf barked with much less ferocity and retreated off of Balthier with a whimper. It fled with the rest of the surviving pack into the deep shadows of the Cerobi.

"Fran?" Balthier called. Dammit, that wolf knocked his gun out of his hands. He stood and poked through the area, finally finding it. "Fran?"

"I'm alright," she said, a little out of breath.

He sighed a huge sigh of relief, but was cut short by a roar so loud it echoed back to them from Balfonheim.

A black shape slowly lumbered forward from the shadows, and when it finally came into focus, his blood ran cold.

It was roughly the size of an overgrown shield wyrm. The talons on its bear paw were stained black from dirt and dried blood, and its blood red eyes were irritated and blood shot. Ragged patches of dirty brown fur caked with mud and blood and scars covered its body, and the fluffy tail was rigid with rage.

It roared again, challenging them and threatening them. Time stood still. They all were frozen with tension and fear.

Until Penelo's crossbow clicked when she loaded the bolt.

With a deafening snarl it lurched forward and swatted at Penelo. She landed a few feet away, unconcious from the blow. Vaan, Basch, and Ashe all rushed the monster, Basch ducking beneath another swipe of its massive paw. He stabbed his sword into the chest of the monster with two hands, and it barely staggered. Vaan and Ashe flanked it with their own sword and knife blows, but they weren't phasing the creature.

It neglected the ones attacking it and headed straight for Fran.

Just like the man said it would.

Balthier sprinted forward, desperate to put himself between Fran and the monster. He fired shot after shot into the creature's back and arms, but the wolf never broke stride. It dove at Fran, and like a cat she evaded the wolf's jaw and it snapped at air. It whipped around with a roar and lunged again, and she jumped into the air, pushing off its snout and landing off to the side.

She was too quick. The monster gave up and turned back to Balthier.

He couldn't raise his gun quickly enough. The wolf's teeth came straight for his face.

He was shoved out of the way, and when he looked back, all he saw was Fran disappear back into the shadow with the monster on top of her.

"Fran!"

He heard growls and snarls, and a moment of silence.

What he heard next was the scariest.

He heard Fran's cry of pain.

As soon as he heard her scream his legs were shocked into action. He clenched his gun and ran forward into the shadows where the beast took Fran. He saw the haunches and back of the wolf and without a second thought jumped on the creature's back. Grabbing a fistfull of fur he held on and unloaded the entire chamber of his gun apart from one bullet into its back. It thrashed and reared up, reaching around to scratch and claw at Balthier. He dropped to the ground and slid through the wolf's hind legs, moving to Fran and crouching over her like an animal himself, protecting his territory.

He threw his gun and hit the wolf in the snout. it shook its head dizzily and focused on Balthier as he grabbed Fran's bow.

"Come on, then!" he sneered, pulling the string and arrow to full draw. "Make my night, furbag!"

The wolf must've understood the insult. Its eyes and nose flared, and with a roar it ran at Balthier once more. He narrowed his eyes at the beast over the arrow; lined up his shot.

Fifteen feet away.

He only had one shot.

Ten feet away.

The bow creaked, but he held the string firm.

Five feet away.

It raised its paw to claw him apart.

He looked straight into the wolf's blood red eyes and loosed the arrow. It flew straight into the monster's face, embedding to the plume into its eye.

Balthier ducked beneath the missed swipe; he felt the hot breath leave it in a whoosh on his face, and the monster's teeth JUST grazed his hair before it flew over him completely and landed dead in the grass.

For a moment it was still. Then it convulsed into violent seizes, the patches of fur falling away and shrinking down. Bones cracked and shifted, then pieced themselves back together; the snout shrunk, and a nose and mouth formed in the face until a hume man lay on the ground.

It was the man in the tavern who posted the bill. The one that bought them the meal. The one that threatened to kill Fran first.

Fran.

Balthier turned and knelt over the unconcious Fran. He shook her gently. "Fran?"

She stirred slightly. She was still alive.

He reached into the pouches of his belt and pulled out all the potions he had. He uncorked one of them and dipped the healing liquid into her mouth. she sputtered and coughed weakly but swallowed it, and her eyes fluttered open.

"You alright, Fran?"

"Th-the wolf, where is it?"

"Dead. Fran, are you alright? You haven't been bitten, have you?" He looked her over, and could see blood pooling around her middle. he gently pried her hand away, and right in her side, torn right through her armor were teeth marks shred into her tan skin. Thick, congealing blood gummed around the small ones, but the K-9 marks were still bleeding profusely. She winced, and he swalled hard with a dead, cold numbness that seized his limbs.

"Oh, Fran, no . . . "

"A-a regular wolf bite . . . I'm fine . . . " she said, her jaw clenched in pain.

"Come on. Let's go back to Balfonheim and get you fixed up." He gathered her up in his arms and began to walk back the way he was sure they came. She already felt hot and clammy in his arms.

Penelo was still unconcious when he returned to the place where they first fought the beast. Ashe and Basch were around her using curative magicks and potions to wake her. Vaan was healing his arm as well.

"Didn't bother to come after us, then?" he said through his teeth.

"We didn't know where you went-" Ashe started to protest, but Vaan cut her off with a gasp.

"Fran!" He started towards them.

"Don't," Balthier said, holding Fran closer and stepping away. "She's been bitten. We need to take her back to Balfonheim."

"But she'll turn, won't she?"

"Then we find a way to heal her!" he snapped. He purposefully strode towards the trail, too afraid to run for fear of harming her, but fully aware that he was pressed for time.

"A matter of hours, if you're bitten by the creature," he remembered her saying.

It had already felt like an eternity.

* * *

 

By the time they reached Balfonheim she was trembling uncontrollably. He was all but shaking with her, too afraid to think of what was to happen if they didn't find her help in time. They forced their way into the tavern and into one of the rooms they rented to travelers. The inn-keeper was about to protest, but he saw the unconcious Penelo and the blood on Fran and on Balthier's vest and Balthier's furious glance, and let them have it free of charge.

He lay her on the bed and she immediately started to fuss. Her fever continued to rise and she periodically cried out, tossing and turning.

Balthier leaned over her, "Fran, you'll be alright-"

She lashed out at him, a small growl escaping her lips.

"She doesn't have much time," Basch said. "The full moon is still out. She'll turn before the morn-"

"I know!" he yelled. " . . . This is all my fault. . . "

"Should we . . . tie her down or something?" Vaan asked as Fran clawed at them again.

"Vaan, you know as well as I do that Fran doesn't take well to being tied up," he muttered. He went over to the bed and clamped a hand on her shoulder and wrist. "Captain?" he said, gesturing to the other side. He obliged, and Ashe and Vaan held her ankles and kept her secure, even as she tried ot toss this way and that. They could see the change happening with each passing minute; her eyes became crazed and bloodshot; her perfectly lacquered nails seemed to sharped and lengthen of their own accord. And she was still getting hotter.

She cried out in genuine pain, her back arching. She broke free of their hold and rolled to her hands and knees on the bed. A noise that began as a scream but contorted into a crazed howl left her throat, and she gasped. Her spine cracked and snapped; her muscles rippled and shifted beneath her skin to reset to her new shape. Her ankles shifted and flattened to tendons, and her hands and shoulders swelled. Tan patches of coarse fur, the color of her chocolate skin, sprouted all around her body, and her jaw quivered and expanded until a fresh snout and full set of teeth were set in her mouth. The last to morph was the short, fluffy tail. It lengthened and grew, the brown fur replacing the white. She tossed her head back and howled and collapsed on the bed once she completely transformed.

She was still except for her widely expanding chest.

Balthier slowly approached her. "Fran?" he asked quietly.

She whimpered. "Fran?" he asked again. He went around the bed to her face. He whispered on last time, "Fran?"

She shot up and roared right in his face. He staggered back and she dove off the bed, tackling Vaan first. He went down under her with a cry, and she clawed across his chest. With a snarl she leapt over to Ashe and drew her talons down her leg. She swatted Ashe to the side and spun on Basch. She ran right into him, driving her snout straight into his stomach. She drove him back into the wall with a cry and burrowed her face into him, tearing flesh and muscle. He managed to get a good stab into her shoulder with his sword, but another gnaw into his abdomen and he dropped it.

Balthier ripped his gun from the table where he left it. He checked the chamber quickly. One bullet.

He stared down the barrel at Fran. But she wasn't Fran anymore. Her eyes wer no longer the soft auburn. They'd turned blood red; her snout and fangs dripped with the others' blood; her patches of tan fur were stained with her own wound. The room was an absolte mess from her rage, and Balthier was the last one standing.

He pulled the safety and her head snapped up, her teeth ripping from Basch's stomach. He winced as she stared at him, and he steadied his trembling hand, willing himself to see the beast in the features and not Fran.

All this was his fault. He disregarded warnings, he brought them there utterly unprepared, and Fran was paying the price.

With a start he recalled something she said before they even left for Balfonheim. He would make it right.

"My dear," he said. She turned to face him fully, a snarl escaping her lips. "You'll just have to forgive me for this."

She charged, and he pulled the trigger.

He didn't watch the shot. He knew it was perfect.

Right between her eyes.

She was tossed backwards, thrown on her back, and Balthier could hear the cracking and shedding and shifting as her bones reset back to normal and she changed back.

He only deigned to look when she was silent. His heart dropped into his stomach and he fell to his knees.

"Oh, Fran, forgive me," he said.

He quickly gathered her up in his arms and tossed a Phoenix Down feather on her.

She did not wake.

He tried white magic, the spell arise. He waited and waited, using spell after spell. "Come on, come on!" he said. He was running out of time. She should've woken.

She wasn't waking.

He'd killed her.

He thought he would make it right. He half-heartedly tried one more arise spell.

Nothing.

But after a moment, he felt a twitch in her. His heart jumped, and he cast arise one more time. With a gasp of breath she awoke. She coughed weakly and looked up at him.

He smiled down at her, utterly relieved and at a loss for words. He hugged her instead.

"H-how did you know to revive me?: she asked. "When you kill the wolf and revive the hume, they will be cured."

"You told us before! Don't you remember?" He shook his head. "Fran, and you say I don't listen to anything you say!" he said with a smirk; his trademark smirk.

She looked around the room and saw the others unconcious, and Basch mauled.

"We'll not have a rabid Captain on our hands, will we?" Balthier asked.

"No. Sufficient resuscitation will do. He'll be fine. We've much healing to do."

"Wow," he breathed. "I'm glad you're alive. Good thing I didn't cry, or it would've been awkward."

Fran shot him a dead-eyed look.

 


End file.
